


galaxies (they flood the streets)

by vervains



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 7dream, 80s, Alternate Realities, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Quantum Mechanics, Sci-Fi, Smoking, Suburbia, Swearing, Thriller, Unreliable Narrator, implied internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vervains/pseuds/vervains
Summary: the passing of a comet makes renjun question the truth of his reality.
Relationships: Background Na Jaemin/Lee Jeno - Relationship, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 31
Kudos: 62
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	galaxies (they flood the streets)

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for the movie coherence. if it isn’t obvious, dreamies live in 80’s america. i hope you enjoy!

Three bikes disturb the peace of the settling evening, racing past the tidy houses that dot the suburban neighbourhood their riders belong to. The streets are empty, so Renjun’s pedalling faster than he should, ignoring Jeno’s and Mark’s calls to slow down, telling him they’re still early. But Renjun’s heart is pumping, his eyes keep darting upwards, as if expecting to see trails of gold in the darkening skies. His smile grows brighter and he urges the other two to hurry up over his shoulder. They can’t miss the comet.

It’s all he’s been thinking about since it was announced on TV. He’d been eating breakfast, listening with half an ear to the news channel his father had put on. His chopsticks had plopped into the bowl at the mention of Halley’s comet. He thought of himself at twenty, and how he was lucky enough to see a comet that only passed earth once every seventy five years. It’s been his mission since to get a look at it, and what better way to do it than by dragging his old friends into it?

“God, you’re crazy,” Mark whines between laboured breaths as they let their bikes drop onto the Zhong’s manicured lawn. “I can’t believe we did this every day as kids.”

Jeno looks around, frowning. “Do you think the others are even coming?”

“For science, they should,” Renjun shoots back, but can’t hold back his fondness at Jeno’s anxious expression. Renjun thinks he changed the least, but that may just be because they’ve been in contact more. He tugs at them both and pulls them towards the door, pressing the doorbell more times than he needs to until he can hear Chenle padding down the stairs, a complaint leaving his mouth with every jostling step.

“Bang on that more and you’re not getting any snacks, ge,” Chenle drawls. Even though this isn’t his first time seeing him since returning from college, Renjun balks for a second because he’s _grown_ now. His jawline is more pronounced, and the baby fat in his cheeks have given away into sharper angels. But the mischievous glint in his eyes is the same. They flit to Jeno and Mark, and brighten. “Great, that’s five of us.”

Jisung’s already inside, looking quite at home with his long limbs stretched out on the sectional. He shoots to his feet when he sees them and there are hugs that last so long their younger selves would have snickered at them. Renjun finds it hard to let go; Jisung and Chenle are the babies of their group and even though they’re adults now, the old protectiveness lingers. 

“You’re still tiny, hyung,” Jisung’s teasing breaks the spell, earning him a smack on the arm. Renjun rolls his eyes at his exaggerated reaction. “Where are Hyuck and Jaemin?”

Chenle’s expression darkens momentarily and Renjun might not have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention. “They’re coming,” he starts, and Renjun’s smile drops when Chenle tacks on the last word, “Together. Hyuck’s bringing Jaemin-hyung.” He doesn’t miss the implication of that, nor the way Jeno breathes in sharply. When he meets Renjun’s eyes, it’s hard to tell what lies in them. 

“Donghyuck would,” Mark murmurs with a shake of his head. He claps a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jeno answers smoothly, and it’s convincing enough to make the others relax and head to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. Renjun trails after them with Jeno at his side and he can’t resist reaching for his hand. He doesn’t have to ask if he’s okay for Jeno to nod, the smile that curves his lips easing Renjun’s apprehension. He focuses on the way Jeno’s hand rests on his thigh under the dining table, and not on thoughts of Jaemin. 

Jisung asks Renjun about the comet, which serves as an almost equal distraction while Chenle debates ordering food. The Zhongs are out at a convention, and that coupled with the telescope Chenle had begged for in his fifth grade astronaut phase makes this the perfect place for his unofficial viewing. At least, that’s what Renjun tells them. He’s barely seen any of them since he, Jeno and Mark moved away for college. Renjun won’t admit it, but he just misses his friends.

“That’s weird,” Chenle remarks, cutting through Renjun’s explanation of Comet West, “the phone line’s dead.”

Any lingering unease from the mention of Jaemin melts away. Renjun’s mind whirrs with all the articles and books he’d pored over at the college library. Chenle keeps trying to reach their favourite pizza parlour, but Renjun’s too busy talking over the others to care. He’s read about this happening, about how comets sometimes cause strange disturbances. Like the Tunguska event. And there was an old belief that comets could affect the weather, even crops.

His friends, however, don’t take him seriously. Mark deduces it must be the wiring, and Chenle wonders whether his parents just forgot to pay their bills again. Renjun rolls his eyes at their skepticism. They’d see when the comet actually came into view and things got weirder than a botched landline. He’s the only one who isn’t bummed out about the pizza, trying to make the others see his point when the cavalry appears, shutting him up.

Donghyuck arrives noisily. He’s grown an inch or two since Renjun left, and his brown hair now falls to the nape of his neck. It makes him look more mature, even though his features are still as soft as ever. He grins and offers Renjun a two-fingered salute which makes him want to punch him, but that’s everyone’s reflex around Donghyuck. He lifts up a bag and the others stir, sniffing sniffing the air like hounds.

“Chicken?” Mark asks hopefully.

“Two ways, baby,” Donghyuck announces, dropping the bag on the table. “Mom packed some kimchi too, said something about us eating too much junk food.”

Chenle and Jisung make for it in a flash, so Donghyuck gives Renjun a welcome-back hug. Renjun takes it but stares over his shoulder at Jaemin, who’s taking off his shoes at the doorway. He hangs back a little as Donghyuck finishes his greetings, a smile that betrays nothing on his face. Renjun bites back a wince when Jeno’s the first to greet him, although with a weird manly pat on the back instead of the hug he would normally have offered.

“That’s cold,” Donghyuck sniffs, but Mark elbows him in a not-so-subtle gesture to shut him up.

Jaemin doesn’t miss a beat, thrusting a bag of apple and grape soju into Chenle’s arms. “For washing it down,” he grins.

“You’re a lifesaver, hyung,” the younger praises, easing the tension a bit. “We wanted to order pizza but the phone stopped working. Chicken’s better though.”

“The phone?” Jaemin raises an eyebrow, settling into the chair on Renjun’s other side. 

Jisung laughs. “Renjun-hyung thinks it’s the comet.”

Jaemin meets his eye and Renjun offers him a weak smile. Jaemin leans forward, brushing his dyed hair out of his face and leaning his chin on one hand in anticipation. “And why is that?”

“It could be interfering with the telephone lines,” Renjun admits softly. “I don’t know about phones specifically, but comets have done weird shit before.”

He reaches for a piece of chicken, just knowing they’re going to laugh at him, but the power shuts off, plunging them into darkness that’s emphasized by the drawn drapes. Jisung lets out a startled yelp and Mark groans. Donghyuck is laughing though, and Chenle gets to his feet, his chair scraping back.

“Weird shit like that?” Donghyuck wonders while Chenle mutters something about finding candles.

Renjun can’t help feeling smug. “Yeah, that’d do it,” he smirks. “Think your parents forgot the electricity bill too, Le?”

“It looks like the whole block lost power, so it might come back soon,” Jeno remarks. Chenle finds some old birthday candles that he sticks in dessert cups, placing them on the table and around the counter at intervals. Jaemin tosses a lighter at him so he doesn’t have to bother with matches, which makes everyone except Renjun give him a look. He just shrugs, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth.

“So,” Donghyuck grins at Renjun, “since you’re the comet expert here, what the weirdest thing you know that’s happened?”

“Yeah, cause that won’t freak me out,” Jisung mutters. Renjun ignores him.

“Well, there’s the Tunguska event. It happened in Siberia in 1906 or somewhere around that. This comet exploded over earth, so it didn’t actually touch earth but the impact,” Renjun pauses for effect, “the impact flattened trees for hundreds of miles.”

“I’m glad we live in the suburbs and not Siberia then,” Mark mumbles under his breath and Renjun threatens to lob his piece of chicken at him. Chenle stays quiet, his eyebrows knitted in thought.

Minutes tick by with conversation that seems too loud in the strange quiet that dawns after an outage. Donghyuck makes spooky faces in the orange glow of candlelight at Jisung, who fails at hiding a smile. Renjun wants to take Jeno’s hand, knows that it’ll go unnoticed in the dark, but his awareness of Jaemin at his side makes him keep still. The food starts to dwindle as it dawns on them that the power really might not come back anytime soon. But despite the elephant in the room, Renjun likes this. All seven of them together, faces bathed in the shadows of their youth.

It’s Jisung who sees the light when he gets up to put a plate in the sink, sneaking a peek through the curtains of the kitchen window. 

“Looks like someone has a genny. The house at the far end of the street still has their lights on.”

“Thought your parents would be first to hop on the bandwagon, Lele,” Donghyuck remarks. 

Chenle just shrugs. His parents work at the power plant outside town, but he never dips his fingers into their affairs. That’s more his cousin’s area of expertise—he’s always been the one willing to follow in their footsteps, despite not being directly related. Renjun’s sure that if Sicheng were here, he’d be just as excited about the comet but the older boy’s away for his teaching assistant gig.

“If you want,” Jeno pipes up, and he can tell the warmth in his voice is directed at him, “we could check out the comet. It should show now that the power’s gone.”

There’s a few groans at that, but no one protests further. It’s just a game they play, poking fun at each other and knowing which buttons to press to get a reaction. They all know each other so well by now that it’s become a delicate dance, never pushing too far. So Renjun joins in the shuffle upstairs to Chenle’s room, sticking close to Jeno, with Mark playfully shoving against his other side to get him to hurry up. 

They have to pull Chenle’s telescope out of a dark corner into the balcony. It’s difficult in the dark, with Jisung shining an unsteady torch beam and Jeno and Donghyuck stepping on _everyone’s_ toes but they manage. Chenle fidgets with the settings for a while, and there’s a moment where everyone’s waiting for it, forgetting their mission of poking fun at Renjun. 

And then Chenle gasps. Renjun almost pushes him aside in his haste. For all his talk and hours spent browsing through unorganized library archives, Renjun’s never seen a comet with his own two eyes before. And it’s beautiful. Rather than gold, the comet is a blind flash of white, vivid against the undulating blackness of the sky. The telescope isn’t powerful enough to see it but Renjun imagines the particles breaking away from the body, each heading towards their own destination. Like how they’ve gone their separate ways over the years. 

“Wait, there! You can see it!”

Renjun pulls away from the telescope, letting Jisung have a turn. Mark’s right—it’s not as apparent, but the comet sparks across the sky, the colour reminding him of the stars on his ceiling back home.

They ooh and ahh over it for a while, because no matter what any of them pretend, they’re barely more than kids. Renjun’s the oldest after Mark, but he thinks his heart must show on his sleeve then, beating urgently when in the dark, Jeno’s pinky finds his own. He meets his gaze and smiles, thinking that as bright as the comet is, he’d rather get lost in the light of Jeno’s eyes.

The spell breaks when the bulbs flicker—the sudden flare of light more eerie than the darkness they’d gotten used too. 

“What the—,”

It dies as fast as it came, plunging them back into shadows.

“Look,” Jaemin says softly. They all turn.

Chenle’s window faces his neighbourhood, and the lone house at the of the street still shines like a beacon. The two floors are completely lit, and although it should be normal, something tugs at the back of Renjun’s mind, some page out of a book he’s read. It bothers him, and not even the presence of the comet can distract from it.

“You know,” Chenle starts, “We could go there. Ask to use the phone. It’s just a block or two over.”

He looks troubled, and Renjun remembers how he’d been silent at the table as well, when he was talking about comets.

Donghyuck’s laugh feels stiff. “What, to order pizza? We have enough food.”

“You wanna call Sicheng,” Renjun connects the dots. “Did he say something?”

In the torchlight, Chenle’s expression is uneasy. They all stare at him.

“Your cousin?” Jisung sounds bewildered. “Why?”

“It’s not a big deal. He just said call and let him know if something...weird happens, you know?” Chenle confesses, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“It’s just a regular power outage,” Mark’s calmness is reassuring. “I don’t think we should barge into someone’s house because of Sicheng-hyung’s...theories.”

That’s a nice way to put it. No one except for Renjun humours Sicheng, who has a thinly-veiled obsession with quantum physics, a fondness for the unexplainable. Twilight Zone crap, Donghyuck calls it.

“It can’t hurt,” Renjun adds. When they give him a look, he shrugs. “If Sicheng-ge said to call, he probably had a reason.” 

“Of course you would agree,” Donghyuck mutters, and Renjun has the urge to step on his foot, no one will see.

“Might as well.” Surprisingly, it’s Jaemin that comes to his aid. He can see the sharpness of his eyes even now. “Just let him know what’s up and get out of there.” 

“We don’t all have to,” Mark pipes up. “Hyuck and I can go.”

“Wha—ugh, fine,” Donghyuck gives in once he sees the look Mark’s giving him. Renjun bites back a sigh. Mark must have been looking for a chance to get Donghyuck alone and ask him what the fuck he was thinking bringing Jaemin along as his _date_. Renjun understands—he’s been wondering about it too, and he feels like he should have taken the chance instead.

Renjun locks eyes with Jaemin as they go back downstairs, and he just knows he’s thinking the same thing. He shakes off the feeling, and sticks to Chenle, his voice low.

“Did Sicheng-ge seem...I dunno, _worried_ about the comet?”

Chenle sucks in a breath. “Not more worried than he usually is. But this place is full of rich, white people. It is kinda weird for the power to be out this long.”

Renjun stays quiet. Donghyuck and Mark grab their coats, the latter ushering Donghyuck to the door before he can start protesting. 

“We’ll be in and out,” Mark promises, slipping his shoes back on. 

“We better be,” Donghyuck grumbles. “Barely even finished my soju.”

“You’re going two blocks over, not the next town,” Jisung rolls his eyes.

“You’ll wish you hadn’t said that when I come back.” 

“Still dramatic as ever,” Jeno tuts as they leave, the door shutting with a bang. 

They settle in the living room, a little too quiet. Renjun wants to curl up in a chair and maybe sketch the comet, but he keeps thinking about Sicheng. They don’t speak as much as he’d like but he knows some of his books should be around here. He grabs a candle and heads to the shelves lining the walls. Something about Sicheng asking Chenle to keep in touch doesn’t sit right with him.

“You look serious,” Jaemin interrupts his browsing, standing over his shoulder. Renjun flinches. He’d hoped that Jeno and the others would act as a buffer between them. It’s not that Renjun doesn’t like him—hell, they were close before the mess with Jeno happened. He just has no idea how to interact with him, especially with how he can no longer tell what he’s thinking.

“Yeah just...wondering what made Sicheng say that to Chenle,” he murmurs. 

Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to respond but someone bangs on the door. Loud, insistent raps that make them stare at each other, eyes wide.

“Do you think they would—,”

“No, Mark and Donghyuck wouldn’t. They wouldn’t knock.”

It’s Jeno that leads the way, the rest of them following warily. Renjun knows they shouldn’t be scared. It’s just knocking. But he swallows against a dry throat anyway. 

Jeno peers out the window.

“There’s no one there.”

“But you heard the knocking,” Renjun insists, “we all did.”

Jeno shrugs helplessly. He opens the door, and sure enough, there’s no one. Just the empty streets and shut doors of the other houses.

“I don’t like this,” Jisung murmurs. Renjun can’t help but agree with him. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Chenle tries to placate them, and the power comes back right then, making them squint. “See, it’s fine. The hyungs are probably on their way back too.”

They share uneasy looks but nod anyway, though they lock the door and sit well away from it. Jaemin twirls a cigarette between his fingers, but doesn’t light it. Jeno, Chenle and Jisung sit together, nervous gazes on the entrance. Renjun busies himself going through the bookshelves to see if there’s anything that might distract him.

They all jump when the doorbell rings. Renjun places the worn copy of _In Search of Schrodinger’s Cat_ on the table, watching as Jaemin brushes aside the curtains.

“It’s them,” he confirms. 

They let out collective sighs of relief, but it dissipates the moment Jaemin unlocks the door, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

“Mark, what the fuck, you’re _bleeding_.”

Renjun’s book thuds to the floor.

They are a discordant mess. Renjun can’t focus—not with everyone’s voices battling for dominance, hands pointed at the gash on Mark’s forehead and the box that Donghyuck carries. It’s not bad, Mark keeps insisting about the small cut that shines red with blood even in the low light, but he won’t say a word about how it happened. Donghyuck seems dazed, his gaze darting around but not really taking in anything.

“Wait, so you walked over to the house and then what?” Jeno presses. 

“He went around the side,” Donghyuck explains, “I was about to knock and then I heard Mark fall? Hit his head? I dunno, but he saw something, and he won’t say what.” 

Mark has a hand pressed against his forehead. Chenle murmurs something about finding bandages and the power comes back on, for good this time. It casts a ghostly light on all of them, especially Mark, who looks paler than normal. Shaken. Renjun grabs his arm, tugs him to a chair and makes him sit down.

“Hyung, you have to tell us what happened. Did someone hurt you? Did you fall?”

Mark shakes his head, doesn’t let Renjun pull his hand away from his wound. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing.”

“You’re hurt and you’re telling us it’s nothing?” Jisung’s lips are downturned. He’s angry, scared. Renjun can’t blame him. “You’re not making any sense.”

“And what’s in this?” Jaemin nods towards the steel box that Donghyuck has deposited on the couch. Mark stares at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“Why would you bring that back?” he hisses at Donghyuck.

“I thought I saw you put it down! It’s no big deal, I’ll walk it back—,” 

“No!” Renjun’s surprised at how firm his voice sounds. It makes them all shut up and turn to him, looking as stunned as he feels. “You’re not going out there, are you crazy? Definitely not alone.”

Chenle returns with the bandaids, both regular and cloth because he didn’t know which would be better. Renjun embraces the momentary quiet to stick one of the latter on Mark’s forehead, apologizing softly when he flinches. 

“I can’t explain it,” Mark mutters, so quiet that Renjun thinks only he hears. A rush of sympathy wells in his heart. He scrounges for something comforting to say, but Jaemin beats him to the cut.

“Chenle, you got a hairpin somewhere? I’m gonna try and open this thing.”

“That has nothing to do with whatever’s going on here,” Mark protests. He gets to his feet, ignoring Renjun and heading towards the hallway leading to the kitchen, his back to the rest of them. Renjun and Jeno share confused looks—it’s unlike Mark to ever get this angry. 

“You won’t tell us what’s in it and you won’t let us open it,” Chenle says, frustration leaking into his voice. “What are we supposed to do?”

Mark gives up, heaving a sigh. He leans against the wall, avoiding everyone’s gaze. The others crowd around the dining table, where Jaemin sits with a bent bobby pin. Renjun’s gut twists with anxiety, but he can’t help the sick curiosity that rises as Jaemin fiddles with the lock. The last few minutes are too much for him to unpack, and maybe this thing really has the answers they need.

“Holy shit, it worked,” Jaemin breathes as the lock clicks. Renjun edges closer, thankful for Jeno’s reassuring presence right beside him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chenle groans as Jaemin opens the lid. “It’s a fucking ping-pong paddle.”

There’s a rush of nervous laughter as he pulls it out. It’s red and shiny, and it reminds Renjun of his own unused set back at home. But Donghyuck’s sharp eye catches the brown envelope that sits in the bottom. He pulls it out, ripping it open. Photos spill onto the table, some coloured, some grainy and black and white. 

There are random numbers scribbled on the backs in red, and their faces in all of them. Donghyuck the one time he was forced to go to summer camp, Jeno lifting a cup at a football game, the one where Renjun kissed him under the bleachers. Renjun at his high school graduation. The memories ingrained into each of the pictures makes him feel sick.

“Somebody’s _marked_ us,” Jisung breathes.

“What do the numbers on the back mean?” Chenle turns them around, trying to find some sort of pattern. Renjun turns to Mark, who has a hand on the bridge of his nose. It’s almost like his stare is the catalyst. Donghyuck snaps.

“Jesus Christ man, you can’t stand there and not say anything! What did you see?”

Mark sucks in a deep breath, shutting his eyes as if he doesn’t want to see their reactions to what he has to say. It sounds as if the words are being dragged out of him, although his voice stays steady.

“I went to the window, and I looked in the window. And I saw a table, set for seven people with chicken and soju and those fruity candies that Chenle always keeps stock of. I saw…” his words fail him here, and he gestures at them, at their half-eaten food and the glass jar of multicoloured candy on the dinner table. 

Renjun’s heartbeat quickens.

“Do you have any idea how that sounds, Mark?” he asks, his voice soft.

“You asked me what I saw, and I’m telling you.”

“Did you guys knock at the side door?” Jeno’s trying his best to keep his voice even, but he can’t hide his suspicion. 

Donghyuck frowns. “No, Mark went around and knocked on the side door of the other house.”

“You guys walked in a circle and knocked on _my_ side door,” Chenle concludes. Renjun ignores the rising voices, the heat that’s starting to line them. He drops down on the chair next to Jaemin, picks up the photos and examines the handwriting on the back. 

“We did _not_ walk in a circle. We walked two damn blocks!”

“Calm down,” Jeno says. It’s a wonder that Donghyuck even listens to him, the way his lips are pursed in anger. “Whatever Mark’s saying, it still doesn’t explain the pictures.”

Chenle comes to stand over Renjun’s shoulder. “Do you think this is like...numerology or something? Like you add up our birthdays or whatever?”

“It feels random,” Renjun murmurs, but he can’t get his eyes off the number 7 on the back of Jeno’s picture. Something about the way the 7 is crossed off...He rises, grabs a notebook and paper off the kitchen counter, ignoring the argument that is still ongoing. Writing down their names and numbers confirms his suspicions; the handwriting side by side is uncanny. His head starts to ache.

“Is there anyone who has it out for us? Who would want to play a sick joke like this?” Jisung asks. But they come up blank. Beyond petty high-school rivalries, Renjun can’t think of anyone who could be crazy enough to do this.

“I need a drink,” Jaemin announces. He leaves to find more of the soju he’d brought. The rest of them follow him, each engulfed in their own thoughts. Renjun stays rooted to his spot, staring at the numbers so hard it feels like he can see them seared in his head when he closes his eyes. He makes a noise of distress when Jeno comes to sit next to him, his hand resting on his shoulder.

“The handwriting. Jeno, it looks like I wrote this,” he whispers. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re not alone. This is crazy,” Jeno mutters. He rubs his hand on Renjun’s back in a small attempt to comfort him. It works, at least until Chenle returns, the determined expression on his face instantly making Renjun’s gut twist.

“I think we should go back there.”

Conversation explodes. _From they have pictures of us_ to _they could be crazy_ to _do you have a death wish_ but Renjun knows that look on Chenle’s face—the same one he wore when he was six and insisted on getting back on his bicycle even after scraping himself on the tarmac, the one he sports when his parents try to dictate his future for him. He protests, of course he does, but he knows there’s no stopping him.

“Think about it. They didn’t answer the first time, so I’ll go over there and leave them a note asking to use their phone. I don’t know what the box is about, but it’s still our best bet.” 

“What’s a note going to do?” Jeno wonders. But Chenle ignores him, rips a paper off Renjun’s notepad and begins to scribble on it, mouthing the words as he does. Renjun’s almost starting to believe it might work, that their photos in the box really is some malicious prank, until Jisung gasps, his finger pointed at the window.

“Shit, there’s someone outside!” Mark peers through. “I can’t see their face but they’re tall.”

Panicked, Renjun hisses at Jaemin, who’s edging towards the door. “Grab something!”

Jaemin looks around, settles for a metal vase that sits on a set of drawers. Weapon in hand, he squares his shoulders and opens the door. Renjun can’t see beyond his back, but from the way he relaxes, he assumes it’s safe.

“There’s nobody. But we have this.”

Jaemin unsticks the note that’s been taped to their door. He sets down the vase, and reads it out in a monotone. Renjun knows what it’s going to say even before he finishes.

“Hey. We don’t mean to freak you out, but we were wondering if we could borrow your phone for five minutes tops. Thanks.”

“No...no way.” Chenle glances at his finished note. He compares it with the one in Jaemin’s hand, and it’s the same. All down to the block letters and the yellow-lined paper, the same smudge that Chenle made in his haste to write.

“Now do you believe me?” Mark asks, his voice taking on a pleading edge.

“So what, you think you saw us? That we sent this note to ourselves?” Renjun asks. Even saying the words inspires a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. Not quite fear, but not excitement either.

“I know how it sounds, but come on. The pictures, the same writing. What else am I supposed to think?”

“Alright, I’m tired of this,” Jaemin announces, shrugging back into his coat. “Talking about it isn’t gonna solve shit. If there’s another of me, I want to see him.”

“Hyung, you can’t be serious,” Jisung protests. “They literally have pictures of us in a box. This isn’t the time to be neighbourly.”

“Yeah but…” Renjun frowns. “If they really are us...Different versions of us, at least, I don’t think they would want to hurt us, right?”

Jeno nods slowly. “If...if we’re right then they must be as confused as us. I don’t think someone’s out to get us. If they wanted to, they could have by now.”

“Exactly,” Renjun manages a smile, happy that he caught onto it. “It’s creepy, but Jaemin’s right. I’m tired of standing here and assuming things.” The fact that he’s agreeing with Jaemin doesn’t escape him as he gets to his feet, looking for his jacket.

In the end, it’s him, Jeno, Chenle and Jaemin that make up the group going outside. Jisung absolutely refuses to step out of the house, and Donghyuck’s staying back since Mark still seems rattled. Chenle cracked open a box of glow sticks for them to use, and the soft blue light is somewhat comforting as they walk out the door, bundled up in their coats. The only other illumination is provided by the comet that still blazes overhead, and the weak streetlights.

“Five minutes there, and five back. We need to stick together,” Renjun says, his voice sounding too loud in the emptiness. In the distance, the house beckons. Jaemin and Chenle take the lead, while he and Jeno hang back. It’s desolate, the streets empty of people or cars as if everyone except them has been wiped off the map.

“What do we do if they...or I dunno, _we_ really exist?” Jeno asks quietly.

Renjun can only shrug. “I don’t know. It’s nice in theory—finding yourself and all that. But what if they’re different? What if they’re not _us_? I don’t see that playing out well.”

He can’t stop thinking about it. If some other version of them exists, any choice they make could prove to be the difference. And Renjun wonders whether someone who may have done the opposite of what he’s chosen to do with his life could really be him in the first place.

“It’s darker here,” Jaemin remarks, halting his train of thought. “Shit, I can’t see anything.”

He’s right. Renjun squints, holds his glow stick higher but it doesn’t help. It’s like a section of street is made out of pure darkness, like they’re about to walk into a black hole. They all unconsciously shuffle closer, and the brief brush of fingers and hands against backs is reassuring as they walk through it.

The house is closer now, Renjun can see the light from inside casting shadows on the well-maintained lawn. The mailbox with a dent in it from when Mark accidentally hit it with a leather ball. The tree they used to climb as kids, daring each other to go higher. He feels his blood run cold.

“That’s my house,” Chenle whispers. He draws closer to it, towards the shaded windows glowing a dull orange.

“Wait,” Jeno hisses, trying to grab hold of him. Renjun follows with his heart in his throat, all three of them ducking down so that no one inside can see. “Chenle, that’s not _your_ house.”

“I see Jisung inside,” Chenle ignores him, crouching to peer through the window. Renjun doesn’t want to believe it but it’s true—their youngest sits on the couch, his fingers doing a nervous dance over his knees, a worried set to his jaw. He looks so much like he did when they left the house, and it makes him feel sick. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Renjun mutters, trying to pull the other boys away to where Jaemin stands, lips parted. The fingers gripping his glow stick grow white when they hear shuffling.

“Someone’s coming,” Jeno warns. “Move!”

They hurry from the driveway to crouch behind behind the garbage bins that line the curb. The light off Renjun’s glow stick is unsteady and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because _he’s_ shaking. Beside him, the other boys suck in harsh, rattling breaths. There are voices from inside, and the front door shuts with a bang. It doesn’t make him feel safe.

“Um, guys,” Jeno whispers. He points towards the four figures on the other end of the street, red glow sticks clutched in their hands. Renjun sees his own face mirrored back. For a moment, they’re all frozen in time. both groups staring at each other. Jaemin’s scarf flutters in the wind, and both versions of him tuck it back in the same way. They stand and watch, mesmerized.

The other Renjun takes a step forward. Then another. Then they all start running, right at them. 

A strangled cry leaves Renjun’s lips. Someone yanks at his arm, trying to drag him back with them.

“We need to go!” Jeno— _his_ Jeno— whispers fiercely.

Renjun snaps back to reality, sees their doppelgangers coming at him and wills his feet to fucking _move._ Jeno half-drags him, hurrying behind Chenle and Jaemin. Their glow sticks bob chaotically in the dark as they run, breaths loud and shoes slapping against the tarmac.

All the time, Renjun thinks about how in the yellow glow of the streetlight he’d been under, the other Renjun had almost seemed to smile.

No matter how many times they retell their story, none of it makes sense. Mark takes it the best, and Renjun finally understands why he’d acted as weird as he did when he came back earlier. He still can’t get the other Renjun’s face out of his head. It felt like looking into a mirror, except the glass was cracked, split in the middle to warp his reflection. He suppresses a shiver.

“You saw four figures, same as you?” Jisung repeats, his arms crossed over his chest.

“They had red glow sticks, that was the only difference,” Jeno answers, the only one of them with enough patience to keep reiterating.

“They must have opened the red box when the lights went out,” Chenle remarks, gesturing towards the boxes of glowsticks on the coffee table.

“There’s also the fact that no one else seems to be here but us,” Renjun adds. “And there’s this weird dark zone in the middle of it all.” 

“We went through that when we came back,” Donghyuck mutters, his brow furrowed in thought. “We need to figure out what’s going on.”

“What about Sicheng-hyung’s books?” Jeno brings up. Renjun’s frown dissipates.

“I was reading through one earlier. Nothing about this but there have to be others that can help. Chenle, there should be more, right?”

“He might have left his notes from the last time he was here,” Chenle perks up. “His room’s unlocked.”

“I’ll help you look,” Jaemin speaks up for the first time since they returned. He’s been trying to stay calm, but the tightness around his mouth and the way his eyes keep darting towards the door and windows betray his fear.

Renjun blinks in surprise. He notices Mark and Donghyuck retreating to the dining room but he doesn’t think much of it, gaze trailing from Jaemin to Jeno, who fiddles with the bracelet he wears. 

“Sure,” he says tentatively. Sicheng’s room used to be the Zhong’s guest room and is more of a study now, which they rarely encroach because of that one time they’d unknowingly used his notes for a high school arts and craft project. Renjun gives Jeno a look he hopes is reassuring and follows Jaemin down the hallway.

He thinks he’d feel more uncomfortable if they hadn’t just met doubles of themselves. Jaemin is quiet as they hunt through the papers on Sicheng’s desk and thumb the spines of his well-worn books. Renjun’s nerves have died down. Their drama can wait until they don’t have to worry about potentially evil doppelgangers having it out for them. He’ll even go as far to accept that Jaemin’s presence is a little comforting.

“This one might help,” Jaemin murmurs, passing him a copy a book called _Fundamentals of Quantum Mechanics_. Its margins are covered in multicoloured post-its about research topics, questions and sections to cover. This must be a part of Sicheng’s notes from his class.

Renjun pushes away similar memories of cramming for finals with Jaemin and skims over the book. He’s had a suspicion for a while, one he drew from when he’d read about Schrodinger’s cat earlier. He stops leafing through the book when he catches on a particular topic— _quantum decoherence_. He’s read about it before, and if this is what’s happening to them, they need to be careful.

“I think this is it,” he mutters, scanning over the text and Sicheng’s neat annotations. “We need to get to the others.”

“Wait,” Jaemin calls before he can leave. Renjun turns, and his lips part at the conflicted expression Jaemin wears. He’s been so composed through the night, it’s weird to see him look...vulnerable, almost. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Renjun says belatedly.

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, and it’s a nervous gesture he remembers well. “Is there something going on with you and Jeno?”

Renjun’s breath hitches in his throat. He didn’t think Jaemin would notice, he thought they were being careful. A part of him even wonders why he cares, when he’s the one that let Donghyuck drag him along as his date. He wishes he had said no to his offer to help, but now the ball’s started rolling and he can’t stop it.

“What?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can say.

“Sorry, I think the craziness of the night is getting to me,” Jaemin chuckles, and it’s a little hoarse. He sounds as if he’s picking out each word carefully. “Things are a little rocky right now, and you know how I worry. You know what, ignore that. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“Jaemin—,” he says and falters, realizing he’s not equipped to handle something like this. Especially not without Jeno here. He tries for a smile that’s reassuring, but is pretty sure it comes out watery. “Don’t worry about it.”

The smile that blossoms on Jaemin’s face is genuine, and it makes Renjun feel ill. “Thanks, I’m just a little out of it.”

“If you’re worried, you should talk it out with Jeno,” Renjun offers, hoping that he’ll take the hint. Renjun still cares about Jaemin. He misses how close they used to be, but he can’t stick his fingers into Jeno and Jaemin’s past. It’s not his place.

“Yeah, maybe I will,” Jaemin mutters with a sigh, and then brightens slightly. “It’s fine. And don’t give me that look, you’ll get wrinkles.”

His tone turns joking at the end, a hint of mirth in a situation that doesn’t call for it. It’s so Jaemin that it should make Renjun smile, but his thoughts are too much of a mess for it. And it’s strange seeing Jaemin so...open. After things went sour between him and Jeno, he’d put up a front that’s been impossible to break through. Especially with Renjun’s feelings for Jeno in the way.

“Let’s go break the news, then?” he asks. For some reason, the effects of the comets feel less strange than this. 

Jaemin nods. 

Mark and Donghyuck are talking in a corner when they return to the dining area. Chenle and Jisung keep looking at the window, as if expecting someone to pop in from it at any time. Jeno sits on the couch, wringing his hands. All of them look up when they enter.

“I found something in Sicheng-ge’s notes,” Renjun starts. “I’ve told you guys about Schrodinger’s cat right?”

“Jeno’s allergic,” Donghyuck sniffs. Renjun shoots him a dirty look.

“Basically, it’s a thought experiment. There’s a cat in a box with a vial of poison. It’s both alive and dead, because until we open the box, there isn’t one definite reality, right? We only observe it in either state when we open the box. But it gets complicated when decoherence comes into play.”

“What’s that?” Mark’s eyebrows furrow. 

“In the simplest terms, the cat is both alive and dead but exists in both states in different realities. And these realities don’t interact with each other.” Renjun hopes that his explanation makes sense. They all just look confused.

“So we’re the cat,” Jisung ventures, “and the comet somehow created two separate realities?”

“I think so,” Renjun concludes.

“And once the comet passes, they’ll stay that way?”

“But if the realities don’t interact with each other, why are...our doubles trying to contact us?” Jeno questions, and all Renjun can do is shrug. He just has notes and theories to go on, nothing concrete.

“Wait,” Mark interrupts. “We started it. We wanted to find the house with lights, so we interacted with ourselves. Two realities are colliding.”

“...you mean collapsing,” Donghyuck adds and none of them miss the implication behind his words.

“Since we’ve already interacted with each other, I have no idea what happens next,” Renjun confesses.

“They ran after us,” Chenle says softly. “If they want to hurt us, then we have to beat them at their own game.”

“Whoa,” Jaemin warns, looking alarmed, “we’re not at _war_ with ourselves.”

“Not yet,” Jisung mutters. The possibility of it hangs over their heads like a sword ready to drop at any second.

“We need to think logically first. Make a plan before we do something stupid, alright?” Jaemin insists. Renjun nods along. They can’t be hasty right now.

“Okay so, since we took their box, shouldn’t we return it first?” Donghyuck wonders. Renjun looks at him, thinks about how uncharacteristically quiet he’s been and something nags at him. But what he’s saying does make sense, he can’t fault the logic.

“Since that is when we first interacted, probably,” he agrees.

“No way,” Jeno shake his head. “Those are our only clues. They have to stay here.”

“Okay stop,” Renjun interjects before they dissolve into another argument. “We have the book, that’s one of our biggest clues. But who’s to say they do? What if in that reality, Sicheng-ge took his notes with him? What if Jaemin and I never find them?”

“It’s a long shot,” Jeno frowns, “but it’s possible.”

“We could take their book,” Jisung speaks up, his tone dark. “Think about it. If they don’t have the notes, they won’t know what’s going on. We’ll have the upper hand till the comet passes.”

“It’s too risky, Jisung,” Renjun protests. “They look like us but we don’t know if they _are_ us. We don’t know what they’re capable of.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence after that statement. Jisung paces the living room while Chenle sits on the floor, his feet tucked under him, staring at the front door. Donghyuck and Mark are in the kitchen, their hushed conversation too quiet to hear. Jaemin leans out a window to smoke, deep in thought. Renjun sits with Jeno, and their hands touch where they lie on the couch cushions. It’s almost comforting.

“I have an idea,” Jeno says, so quietly that Renjun’s sure only he can hear it.

“What?” he asks, and the brush of Jeno’s fingers isn’t so warm now.

“Something that’ll stop them from getting the book. Something only I know.”

“That sounds an awful lot like blackmail,” Renjun whispers back furiously. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I don’t want anyone to know, which means...my other self won’t either. It’ll distract them for a while, at least,” Jeno insists, and Renjun knows from the resolute shine in his eye that whatever he says won’t stop him now. He can’t help the dread that settles in his chest again. He has a good idea what Jeno’s going to tell his doppelganger, but he asks anyway.

Jeno eyes drift to his lap. “The real reason I broke up with Jaemin.”

Renjun sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’s the only one Jeno’s told, and he thinks of the expression on Jaemin’s face when they spoke earlier. This is going to hurt him if he finds out, and Renjun realizes he doesn’t want that. Far from it.

“Just think it through okay? We don’t have to be—,”

Jisung interrupts him, appearing from the kitchen. His voice is laced thick with suspicion. “Where are Mark-hyung and Donghyuck?”

“They were right in there,” Chenle says, confused. Jaemin notices the commotion and shuts the window, heading over to them.

“They’re not now,” Jisung says stonily.

Renjun gets to his feet, thinking of how quiet Donghyuck had been since he came back from outside, and the way Mark had lost his cool. He feels like he’s been doused with cold water when Jaemin speaks, his gaze sweeping over the dining table.

“The book and the box. They’re gone,” his voice cracks a little. All the pictures have been wiped off the table, and only Renjun’s notebook with their numbers remains. He shakes it, hoping to find a stray photo, but to no avail.

“Mark and Donghyuck,” Renjun whispers, “they’ve been acting strange since they got back. What if they never came back? At least, not the versions that we know?

“No way,” Jisung shakes his head. “That’s insane. They had the blue glowsticks!”

“We have both blue and red,” Chenle counters, pointing at the unopened red box. “It makes sense that they would too.”

“I feel like I’m going insane,” Jisung laments, dropping onto a chair and running a hand over his face. “We’ve lost our only clues.”

Renjun sees Jeno slip out the side door out of the corner of his eye. He says nothing, instead looks at what he’d written down in his notebook. “We have most of those pictures. Chenle, could you find them? I think they were trying to mark their house with that box. So if they left, they’d be able to come back.”

Chenle nods, hurrying away to find them. 

“If...if they were from the red house, where do you think our Mark and Donghyuck are?” Jisung voices the question Renjun has been dreading.

“Safe, I hope,” he settles on saying, not wanting to freak him out even more. In truth, Mark and Donghyuck could be anywhere, in any of the realities the comet has created. He prays that they, and Jeno are being careful.

Chenle returns with two photo albums that he drops on the table. Renjun gets to work flipping through them, picking the exact photos he remembers seeing. It’s crazy looking at scenes from their past like this, when all the laws they thought to be true about the universe have toppled in on themselves. Things like high-school graduation and prom seem silly, but he aches for simpler times.

He’s at a picture of Chenle from one of his recitals when Jeno returns, head hung low. It’s a testament to how terrible they’re feeling that neither Chenle nor Jisung seem to have noticed his absence. Only Jaemin looks up, his eyes narrowing in the slightest, but he stays quiet. Jeno seems dazed but unharmed and Renjun hopes that whatever he did doesn’t backfire on them.

“How’d it go?” he asks softly when Jeno sits down next to him, staring at their photos as if he’s seeing them for the first time.

“I don’t know,” Jeno confesses. “I went up there, and I was about to knock on the door but I...panicked, I guess.”

Renjun nods in understanding.

“I ended up leaving a note. I don’t know if they...if _I_ saw it.”

Renjun takes his hand, squeezing it in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

Jeno looks at their joined hands and nods, but pulls away sooner than Renjun would have liked. He tries not to let it get to him, going back to sorting through the pictures. He’s found almost the same ones when Jaemin calls from his spot at the window.

“Someone’s coming. Blue glow sticks,” he observes.

“Do you think it’s Mark and Donghyuck?”

“The ones from the red house had blue glow sticks too,” Jisung points out.

“They’re waving. They look friendly enough. Let’s just let them in.” Before any of them can stop him, Jeno strides over to open the front door. 

Renjun’s throat tightens seeing Mark and Donghyuck, their breathing hard as if they ran here, their expressions crumbling with a mix of relief and fear. Fuck alternate realities and fuck comets, he thinks, ignoring the other’s startled yelps and rushing forward to catch them both in a fierce hug. It’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care.

“Did you miss us?” Donghyuck grins, but squeezes him back anyway. Mark pats his back awkwardly, and Renjun forces himself to get his shit together long enough to let go.

“What the fuck happened?” Chenle queries as they move aside to let the two of them in,

Mark tells the story, and it’s familiar but not at the same time. Although half of it is close to what the other Mark said, Renjun recognizes the steady lilt of his voice, the calmness of his gaze. This has to be _their_ Mark.

“I don’t know. It’s like, I looked in the window and I saw…us basically? I got startled and I hit my head. And then we tried to get in—,”

“But you already came back here with the box,” Jisung insists and Renjun can’t blame him for being skeptical. “We’ve already heard this story.”

“Wait, there was a Mark and Donghyuck here?” Mark asks, stunned.

“Yeah, and they took the box and our book,” Renjun adds quietly. “We have no idea where they are now.”

“You don’t understand. We were in a house where everyone had red glow sticks. It was fucking freaky,” Donghyuck shudders, pulling one out of his pocket. Mark has the same one inside his jacket. They all stumble back at the sight, a collective hush falling over them. Once Donghyuck realizes his mistake, he’s quick to correct himself.

“We had to use them to blend in. Come on, the box of red glowsticks here is unopened. It’s us.” He sounds tired and desperate. Although there’s a possibility for them both to be lying, Renjun wants so badly to believe them.

“Guys, if they started here, they belong here,” he murmurs. That makes them relax a little, Jisung even managing a hesitant smile.

“Welcome back,” Jaemin moves forward to pull Donghyuck into a rough hug. “Sorry about this.”

His and Jaemin’s acceptance makes the others loosen up, and there’s hugs all around. It’s eerily reminiscent of when they had arrived at Chenle’s house earlier, before everything had turned to shit. But in a strange way, it gives Renjun hope that maybe they’ll come out of this okay, if they stick together and use their heads.

“Mark?” Jeno calls, once they’ve all settled around the dining table. “What was...the other me like?”

Mark gives him a look that almost strikes Renjun as pitying. “He’s...worried about you.”

Renjun can’t even begin to analyze what that means. “How many Marks and Donghyucks do you think are out there?” 

“That’s why we need to mark the house,” Jisung realizes. “Something...unique. Something that has a low chance of being repeated.”

Renjun was working on that before. He has all their pictures spread out on the table, but it’s not like they can just add them into a box and hope that the other realities wouldn’t duplicate them. He guessed that’s what the red house was doing with their photos. Except they took it unknowingly. 

“Dice,” he says. “Do we have dice?”

Chenle and Jisung look at each other. “Liar’s Dice,” the both say at the same time. 

“Okay, and find a box while you’re at it,” Renjun calls as they leave to find the game.

“So we each roll the dice, and we write the number on the back of our photos. That’s like....a ton of outcomes. I think it’s as good as we’re going to get,” he explains to the others.

“It might work,” Jeno agrees.

“We can also add a random item, just to make it more unique,” Mark adds.

Renjun pauses, and he can sense that they’ve all reached the same conclusion. He thinks of the ping-pong paddle from earlier. The other Renjun’s smile flashes in his head and he tries to fight the shiver that runs down his spine.

“If it seems like a good idea to us, it would seem like a good idea to them,” Jaemin says, his voice dark.

Chenle and Renjun return with the dice, and they each take turns rolling one before Renjun scrawls it on their photos with a blue pen, just to be more consistent. They crack tentative jokes while he does it, griping about their hairstyles or the clothes they’re wearing in their photos; stupid shit to bring back a semblance of normalcy. It works, and Renjun’s smiling with the rest of them, letting their laughter convince him that everything will be fine.

“I actually feel better,” Jisung admits once they’ve put everything in the box, stretching his arms high up over his head. “We should be good as long as we stay in now.”

There’s a chorus of agreements, and Donghyuck gets to his feet. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink,” he says.

Jaemin’s the next person who shares this sentiment, and the rest of them follow. Renjun shuts the metal box Chenle and Jisung had found, so identical to the one from the red house. He hears the snap of soju bottles being opened and smiles. Jeno returns with his own drink, hovering over Renjun’s shoulder. 

“I wonder how different those numbers are from the first box,” he wonders. The words are barely an afterthought, uttered he takes a swig of his soju. But as most things do, it spikes Renjun's curiosity. 

“Let me check,” he responds, even though Jeno doesn’t stay long enough to hear him.

He writes down their names and the numbers they’d just rolled, and then flips the notebook to look for what he'd written earlier. He pauses. Way at the back end of the notebook, there’s a page that he doesn’t remember writing on. But it’s in his neat hand, written in a green coloured marker that he definitely doesn’t remember using.

He blinks. There are three sets of numbers in this notebook, and he’s certain he only wrote two of them. His friend’s laughter feels echoey when they return to the table, as if he’s hearing them through a tunnel. He flinches hard when Mark lays a hand on his shoulder, worried brown eyes peering into his.

“Are you okay?” Renjun can barely hear it over the buzzing in his ears. He just about manages a nod.

“Hey, do you remember what your number was?” He asks, hoping Mark can’t hear the hitch in his voice.

“Yeah, it was a five,” Mark responds, taking a sip of his soju.

Renjun tries to take in small, measured breaths through his mouth. He asks everyone else, marking down their answers. His fingers shake a little when he begins to compare, circling the ones that he can find in common. The wrongness of it all starts to add up—apparent in the way Jeno and Jaemin sit closer than they should, their lips too stretched at the corners. The way Chenle’s drinking grape soju even though he _hates_ it.

The conclusion he comes to has him reaching out for a drink himself, his hand trembling.

Only Jisung is from this house because he never left. Everyone else, including Renjun, are in the wrong reality.

It’s Jeno that he seeks out first, because even if this isn’t _his_ Jeno, Renjun doesn’t know what else to do other than to expect comfort from the person who’s naturally given it to him so many times. He pulls him away from the others, trying not to think about the confused stare Jaemin gives them. 

“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks, his eyebrows drawn together and Renjun feels the tightness in his throat get ten times worse. It’s Jeno on the outside, but the light in his eyes that should be there when he looks at Renjun is absent. There’s concern, but it’s not the same. 

“There’s a third set of numbers in the notebook,” he blurts out. “I didn’t write it. Jeno, this means that they are a third set of people...of _us_ somewhere.”

“Slow down,” Jeno coaxes, his hands settling over Renjun’s arms. “You sound terrified.”

“That’s because I am,” Renjun hisses. “Don’t you get what this means? I compared the numbers from each house and only Jisung is from here because he never left. Everyone else? We don’t belong here. We’re visitors, Jeno. And we need to leave before we’re stuck here for good.”

“What are we—,” Jeno starts to say, looking stricken. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“What’s that?” Chenle asks, pointing towards the slip of paper that slides in from under the front door. Jeno grows even paler, brushing past Renjun in his haste to get to the note before anyone else does. Renjun remembers his plan and he feels unsteady on his feet, woozy. He clutches onto a cabinet for support.

The cheery atmosphere from before has dissipated, as if they’ve all remembered what was going on outside. They crowd around the door, pestering Jeno with questions. Renjun wants to try and help him smooth things over, but his voice is stuck in his throat, refusing to come forth.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno stutters. “It’s just this idea that I had before—,”

“If it’s nothing, then why can’t you show us, hyung?” Jisung asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Guys—,” Renjun tries to say, but the damage is already done.

Donghyuck snatches the note out of Jeno’s hands, ignoring his cry of protest.

“Jeno. Jaemin plus book equals Summer of ‘84. Don’t let it happen, whatever it takes,” he reads, his voice growing more confused with each word he utters. “What the hell?”

“Jeno, what’s this about?” Jaemin asks, rounding up on Jeno. His eyes are wide and accusing, even though his voice is calm enough. Renjun thinks of the stark contrast between this and how he had spoken to him earlier. No wonder he had thought it strange. How many different versions of his friends has he interacted with so far? The thought is enough to drive him insane, if he isn’t already.

“I swear, it doesn’t matter. I just thought I could stop the other house from getting the book if I blackmailed myself.” The desperation reeks off Jeno, and it does nothing but add fuel to the flames. Every word he says digs his hole deeper.

“My name is on that note. You need to tell me, _now_.”

Jeno’s shoulders flatten in defeat. “It’s the reason I broke up with you.”

The others take a step back at that, realising that the matter at hand is too personal. Renjun’s legs feel too weak to hold him up anymore, so he drops onto a chair. Remembering that time in his life combined with the absolute craziness of the night makes his head spin.

“What does that mean?” Jaemin snaps, voice sharp. “You said that was because I was moving away. Because you couldn’t do long distance.”

“That was only part of the truth,” Jeno admits. “Please, can we not do this now?”

Jaemin’s face is shuttered. “You tell me now, or this time, _I_ end things.”

Renjun feels as stricken as Jeno looks. This confirms everything, that these are not the people he knows, that he doesn’t mean what he should to either of them. 

Jeno shuts his eyes for a brief second, as if resigning himself for what’s about to happen. His voice rings loud in the tense silence. “I didn’t want to tell my parents about us, Jaemin.”

Jaemin holds up a hand, his voice cracking in the slightest. “So you lied to me?” “I was afraid,” Jeno adds hastily. “I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”

Jaemin’s scoff is punctuated by unamused laughter. “Of all the bullshit that’s happened tonight, I expected this the least.”

Renjun wonders why his heart aches when he doesn’t even know them.

“Jaemin—,”

“You’re right, let’s not do this right now,” Jaemin grounds out, and his eyes flash as if daring Jeno to push the conversation.

Jeno seems devastated, but nods anyway. The others shift uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Mark tries to talk to Jaemin, but he just brushes away his hand, stalking to another part of the house. Jeno looks lost, sitting down on the couch with his fingers digging into his thighs. Renjun sends him a pitying look, but he doesn’t listen to his instincts and walk over to comfort him.

He shouldn’t.

“Renjun,” Mark’s voice pulls him out of his funk, anchoring him for a moment. He looks unsure, chewing on his bottom lip the way he does when he’s troubled. “What was that? I don’t understand.”

“I thought it was clear enough,” Renjun croaks. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of this.

“What happened in ‘84?” Mark continues, unrelenting. “I don’t remember them ever breaking up. In fact, this is the first time I’ve even seen them fight.”

Renjun sighs. So Jaemin and Jeno lasted in whatever reality Mark’s from. He almost envies him, for a terrible second.

“Do you remember what was in the box that we first got? The one from the other house?”

“What?” Mark frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

More than he knows. “Do you?” Renjun insists, an edge creeping into his voice.

“I do,” he snaps impatiently. “It was a rubik’s cube.”

Renjun doesn’t know how his heart still has the capacity to sink. “Mine was a ping-pong paddle.”

“What are you talking about?” Nearby, Chenle’s lips part as he draws in a shaky breath. “No, it was an oven mitt.”

Jisung pales. Donghyuck lets out a humourless laugh, pressing a hand to his forehead. Jeno’s expression is simply blank, as if not even registering what they’re talking about. Or he just doesn’t care enough to. Renjun understands that numbness. He’s felt it seeping into his veins throughout the night. Slow. Lethal.

“We all remember different objects because none of us are from here,” Renjun says, but his words don’t feel like his own.. “Except Jisung, because he never left.”

He expects one of them to yell at him, demand how that could be. He even wants it to happen, over the resignation that settles over their features. Donghyuck’s laughter grows louder, more crazed. Jisung buries his face in his hands while Chenle draws his knees up to his chest, as if by making himself smaller, he can protect himself.

“So that’s it?” Donghyuck asks. “We’re stuck here?”

“I don’t know,” is all Renjun can say.

The silence that falls is heavier and more suffocating than anything they could have thrown at him. But the unsteady peace lasts barely ten seconds. Renjun doesn’t comprehend it at first. He doesn’t register the way the door opens forcefully, the same jacket he’s seen Jeno that night flapping in the air as he races towards the couch, pulls back a fist and punches Jeno so hard that he hears the sound of flesh hitting bone from all the way across the room.

“What the fuck—,”

“Jesus, Jeno, are you okay?”

“Get him!”

It’s too late. The other Jeno dissapears as quick as he’d come in, the green glow stick that’s attached to his belt flashing as he rushes out the door. There’s blood dripping down Jeno’s cheek, and he dabs at it with shaky fingers, each touch accentuated with a hiss of pain. Renjun gets to his feet the same time Jaemin reappears, the cigarette between his lips flaring as he takes in the sight.

“Jisung, get some ice,” Jaemin orders, and their youngest scurries away, stunned. Mark hovers worriedly over Jeno, who brushes away his attempts to touch him.

“Renjun, where are you going?”

Donghyuck’s voice is what alerts Renjun to the fact that he’s moving, his feet taking him towards the front door. He pauses, turns back to the people who look like his friends, act like his friends, but aren’t the same, not where it counts. He catches Jeno’s gaze, and there’s a question in his eyes but it doesn’t hold the same weight as the ache in Renjun’s chest.

“Home,” he answers simply, waiting around just long enough to see Jisung return with an ice pack.

He steps out the door, ignores the voices yelling after him, and looks up at the comet. It almost seems to wink in the night sky as if mocking him, and he can’t imagine a time when he’d been excited to see it. It sickens him now, as he slowly walks down the streets, taking in the identical houses that loom threateningly on either side, their insides void of light or people. Every two blocks, he comes across Chenle’s house. And every version he sees of it seems worse than the next.

There’s one where they’re all yelling; he can tell even if he can’t hear their voices from outside the window. Another where Donghyuck is on his knees, his hands bound with duct tape while the Renjun of that reality looks down at him with narrowed eyes. Another where Renjun cannot see himself at all, as if his friends had continued existing without him, as if that version of him is as lost as he feels now.

But then he remembers Jeno. Remembers the comfort of his touch and the warmth in his eyes, the knots in his stomach when they’d had their first kiss under the bleachers at that stupid college football game. He thinks of Jaemin, and how he’s always been the first to try and breach the gap that had inevitably formed between them, despite Renjun’s own stubbornness. He thinks of his friends and wills his feet to move past the different iterations of their lives the comet had created, had cruelly warped.

He _will_ find them before the comet passes, no matter how many alternate realities he needs to navigate through. He has to. He has to tell himself that he can, or he’d have nothing left to believe in. 

And Renjun, even in this fucked up nightmare, would rather choose to believe than not.

fin

**Author's Note:**

> this can be quite confusing because of the alternate realities and people switching places and such, so i’d love to hear your questions/thoughts in the comments! i was going to use the movie’s ending at first but i figured this type of an open ending would be better. let me know if you liked it! and watch coherence, it’s amazing—the title is taken from the laura veirs song galaxies, which plays during the end credits!
> 
> get in touch with me below:
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/dawnblushes)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/vervains)


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